It started with a conversation he wasn’t supposed to overhear.

The lounge was loud—filled with music, laughter and clinking of champagne glasses. But Sae heard you. He hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop, but the second the words “hate” and “football” formed in the same sentence—it caught his attention. And not in a good way.

“All they do is chase a ball around,” you had muttered. “I mean…good for them, but I don’t get the obsession. It’s just football.”

Your friends had laughed, not in mockery, but because you always said things like that—things that were too honest, too blunt. Your distaste towards football always humoured your friends. But Sae? He didn’t even smile.

He sat still across the room, sipping on his sparkling water with a tight jaw, watching you with narrowed eyes. You didn’t notice him, too distracted by the conversation In front of you. But he noticed everything. From the way you tucked your arm into your friend’s, leaning into her side with a soft laugh.

Yet, for someone who had no interest in what defined him…you were captivating. You had that look—alive, animated and unaware of the weight your words carried. They got under his skin so easily.

He told himself it didn’t matter—that he didn’t care. But the second he saw you stepping outside into the cold with no jacket, something in him moved.

He shouldn’t have moved, shouldn’t have followed you. He didn’t have a reason to. But there he was, standing beside you, watching your shoulders tremble under the biting winter air, seeing the way your wide eyes as you stared at the snow, admiring each snowflake that fell gracefully.

Too distracted by your surroundings, you didn’t hear him approach. Not until you heard someone beside you—Itoshi Sae (not that you recognised him). He shrugged himself out of his stupidly expensive coat, holding it out to you like it was nothing. A silent gesture that somehow said everything and nothing all at once.

“Take it.” His voice was flat, colder than the air outside. “You’re shivering.”

“…You don’t even know me.” You muttered.

He didn’t answer, only stepping forward and draping the coat over your shoulders himself. A gesture that didn’t scream that he didn’t care.

“You really hate football?” he asked, out of nowhere.

Your cheeks flushed, maybe from the cold or maybe from his words—and maybe from your own embarrassment. “You heard that?”

He didn’t nod, didn’t smile. Just silently observing you. “You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t know anything.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that…or what to say even. The silence was heavy, not suffocating—just a subtle tension.

The fireworks cracked across the night sky, ushering in the new year. Sae stood beside you—silent, unreadable and a little too close for someone who claimed they didn’t care.